Que bonita cabeza

Since Lola has been diagnosed with unicoronal craniosynostosis, which is an early fusion of one of the sutures in her skull that requires surgical correction, so many people have commented on the shape of her head.

No one has made mention of its odd shape, although two medical professionals (a dentist and a pediatric gastroenterologist) noticed it right after meeting her prompting me to share her story. In fact, I've had only positive comments about her head.

Complete strangers have come up to me on numerous occasions to remark about my baby and tell me what a beautiful head she has. Twice older women have told me what a precious gift she is and how lovely her head is. Friday at the Harvest Festival in Boaz a woman and her daughter stopped to meet Lola and both told me she has such a nice head.

By far though the most memorable encounter was in the shoe department at Belk in Guntersville. I'd taken Lola with me on my hunt for a new pair of walking shoes, but she decided this was the time to eat not shop. So I found a quiet corner where I could feed her out of the way of the salesperson and other shoppers.

While I was giving her a bottle a Latino family ventured into the department. I think this was three generations of females from one family. The two younger women looked for shoes and their daughters followed sullenly behind. The oldest of the three women broke away from the group and came over to the corner where I was seated with Lola. I believe she was the family matriarch because I heard one of the little girls call her "abuela," which I know from high school Spanish means grandmother.

The woman was very short with long salt-and-pepper hair pulled up in a ponytail. Her skin bore deep winkles, and I don't think she had a tooth in her mouth. Her clothes were obviously old and well-worn. She approached me slowly, and when I looked up she smiled a broad, toothless grin I suppose as a means of indicating she meant us no harm.

I smiled back at her, which she took as a signal to initiate a conversation.

"Cuanto meses?" she asked and pointed at Lola.

Once again I searched the recesses of my brain to pull up phrases from high school Spanish class. I determined she was asking me how old Lola was.

"Tres meses," I responded while holding up three fingers.

The woman smiled again and said something to me in rapid-fire Spanish. I smiled and nodded at her unable to respond because I have no idea what she said. Then she came closer, extended both of her weathered and wrinkled hands, placed them on Lola's head and said "Que bonita cabeza," which I know means, "What a pretty head."

I responded with a heartfelt "gracias" and another smile. She turned and went on her way and I returned to concentrating on feeding Lola.

People who are aware of Lola's condition regularly tell me that her head looks fine to them, which I appreciate. However, these people who don't know us and don't know about our situation that comment so favorably about her head are the ones who stick with me.

I could take the cynical view and think that they notice her misshapen skull and feel compelled to say something nice; but I like to think that God sends these strangers to me as a means of reminding me that Lola's head is beautiful despite it's flaws.